“Something that doesn’t count too much,” he grinned. “I wonder. It strikes me that you’re just the sort that insists on doing hard, important things all the time.”
“You might be right at that, and perhaps I’ve got a buddy that’s built along the same lines,” she answered smiling.
“Might be,” he agreed. “Anyway the next hop promises to be both important and tough so we’d better get going.” He slid off the stool.
Five minutes later, having been joined by Hop Sing, they were back at the plane. Heavily padded suits, fur-lined jackets, and marvelous wool socks were selected with great care for all. Sparky went through the business of getting set for a long flight, then, when his motors were rolling, nodded to the mechanic and they went gliding away.
As if by way of a warning from the storm gods, as they cleared the treetops, a stiff push of wind lifted their plane high, then let it down with a bump.
“Oh, ho!” Sparky shouted. “So that’s how it is! Blow high! Blow low! Not all your snow can stop our motors’ steady roar.” He was in high spirits. But Mary was ill at ease.
“They say that women have instincts,” she said to Sparky.
“Meaning what?”
“Nothing much, I guess.”
He set the ship climbing. They went speeding on toward those eternal fields of white.